Raistlin said his good-byes quickly. He was eager to go home to his rest, and he waited impatiently at the door

for his brother. Caramon embraced Sturm, the two longtime friends holding each other close. They parted in

silence, both unable to speak. Caramon shook hands with Tanis, and he would have hugged Flint, but the dwarf,

scandalized, told him to "get along home." Tasslehoff flung his arms as far as they would go around Caramon,

who playfully tweaked the kender's topknot in return.

Kitiara stepped forward to embrace her brother, but Caramon seemed not to see her. Raistlin was now tapping

his foot in irritation. Caramon hurried off, brushing past Kit without a word. She stared after him, then grinned,

shrugged. Sturm's good-byes were brief and formal, accompanied by low and respectful bows for Tanis and

Flint. Kit arranged a meeting place and then Sturm left.

"I think I'll stay a little longer," said Tas. He was just about to upend his pouches to look over his day's "findings"

when there came a heavy knock on the door.

"Oh, hullo, Sheriff," Tas called cheerfully. "Looking for someone?"

Tasslehoff departed in the company of the sheriff. The kender's last words were for someone to remember to

get him out of jail in the morning.

Kit stood in the doorway, waiting for Tanis. "Flint, you coming?" Tanis asked.

The barmaid had taken the candles away. Flint sat in the darkness. He made no response.

"The girl's wanting to close up," Tanis urged. Still no response.

"I'll take care of him, sir," the barmaid said softly.

Tanis nodded. Joining Kit, he put his arm around her, drew

her close. The two walked side by side into the night. The dwarf sat there, by himself, until dawn.

BOOK 6.

The blade must pass through the fire, else it will break.

-Par-Salian

It was the sixth day of the seventh month. Antimodes stood in the window of his room in theTowerofWayrethgazing

out into the night. His room was one of many

rooms in the tower open to mages arriving to study, to confer, or-as was Antimodes-to participate in giving the Test,

which would be held on the morrow.

The tower's accommodations were of various sizes and designs, from small cell-like rooms for the apprentice

mages to larger and more lavish rooms reserved for the archmagi. The room in which Antimodes was comfortably

ensconced was his customary room, his favorite. Since the archmage was fond of travel, known to drop by at

unexpected times, Par-Salian saw to it that the room was always kept ready for his friend's arrival.

Located near the top part of the tower, the suite consisted of a bedroom and a parlor, with a small balcony that

sometimes overlooked theForestofWayrethand sometimes did not, depending on where the magical forest

happened to be at the moment.

If the forest was not there, Antimodes would often conjure up a view himself. Vast fields of yellow wheat, or

perhaps crashing surf, depending on what he felt in the mood for that day. The forest was not there this night, but

since it was dark and Antimodes was tired from his day's travel, he did not bother with landscaping. He had been

standing on the balcony, cooling himself in the evening breeze. Leaving the shutters open to keep the air circulatingit

was unusually hot that night-he returned to a small desk, continued his frowning perusal of a scroll, a perusal

which already had been interrupted by dinner.

A knock on the door again interrupted him.

"Enter," he called in an irritated tone.

The door opened silently. Par-Salian thrust his head inside.

"Am I disturbing you? I can come back...."

"No, no. My dear friend." Antimodes rose hastily to his feet to greet his visitor. "Come in, come in. I am very

glad to see you. I was hoping we might have a chance to talk before tomorrow. I would have gone to you, but I

feared to disturb you at your work. I know how busy you are just prior to a testing."

"Yes, and this Test will prove more difficult than most. You are studying a new spell?" Par-Salian glanced at

the scroll on the desk, which was partially unrolled.